


At War with the Queen of Pranks

by completelyhopeless



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Humor, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint gets the blame for the latest prank against Coulson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At War with the Queen of Pranks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scribblemyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/gifts).



> For the prompt: _[MCU, Melinda + Clint, new agents May and Barton are prank buddies/holy terrors.](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/563980.html?thread=79345932#t79345932)_
> 
> Came at it sideways again, because my headcanon said they were in competition before partners, but they'll get there.
> 
> Written in honor of the fact that there was a trampoline in my parking space today. I kid you not. It wasn't even a prank.

* * *

“When I got to work today there was a trampoline in my parking space,” Coulson said, looking at Barton first. The archer met his gaze, trying to seem innocent, which Coulson knew was and always would be a lie. There wasn't anything innocent left in Barton. “You know anything about that?”

“No, sir,” Barton said, though Coulson could see the small tells where he was fighting against laughter. Coulson shook his head. He knew that Barton was behind this, had known before he found him and asked him about it, but the laughter was almost too much.

“I'm sending you to Morocco with Eastman.”

Barton shook his head. “Come on, Phil. Even if I did do it, that's extreme. Eastman still hates me, and not only that, he's got no stomach. Have you ever been anywhere with him where they put spices in the food? It's like being around a constant airborne toxin for the next three weeks.”

Coulson nodded. “I served with him in Tijuana once. I'll never forget the creativity of the local insults. It was an interesting month. You're still going.”

Barton grumbled to himself as he turned and walked away, shaking his head and muttering something about women that Coulson didn't want to hear.

* * *

“Where the hell did you get a trampoline anyway?”

May looked up from her book, arching an eyebrow as she did. Clint shook his head. “Not gonna work, May. You know I know better. You know I know you did that to Coulson. Damn it, I'm getting kind of sick of being blamed for your pranks.”

She smiled as she turned a page in the book. “How hard were you laughing before Coulson assumed it was you?”

“Um...”

“That's your problem, you know,” May went on. “If you didn't act like it amused you so much, then you wouldn't be in trouble as you are. The trick is to pretend that it's not funny at all.”

“I do.”

“You have tells.”

“I do?”

She nodded. “I can tell you what they are.”

Clint looked at her. “And the price for that education?”

She laughed. “Aren't you already paying it? He did assign you to Morocco with Eastman, after all. You should be packing, you know.”

“Damn,” Clint said, having a new appreciation of her talents and wondering just how evil she was while being glad that for now May used her powers for good. “You got both of us, and you meant to all along.”

May's lips curved into a smile. “It's easier than you think for women to outmaneuver men. Just wait until they partner you with a woman for the long term. Or, heaven forbid, you have a relationship that lasts.”

“I'm not crowning you the Queen of Pranks or anything, May. This is war.”

“A war that you're losing,” May told him with a bright and irritating smile that Clint wanted to punch. “Your flight leaves in half-an-hour. Oh, and don't forget the bags. Eastman is going to pull the whole 'I only get sick on cargo planes' routine with you.”

“How do you know?”

“He hates you. This isn't rocket science, you know.”

“No,” Clint agreed, “a good prank is more like art.”

“Exactly.”

They both smiled at that, but Clint stopped, pointing a finger at her. “It's still war.”

“Bring it on.”


End file.
